Friday, September 26, 2008

The teenage years, part 3

So there I was. Profoundly changed (I know disturbed doesn't quite cover it, but I'm not sure there's a word that does cover it) and angrier than ever.

Again, I'm fuzzy on the details, because well, I was a kid, and fairly sheltered from adult problems, but my mother split with the boyfriend, and took my stepfather back. Here's how all that went down.

It's late, sometime after midnight, and I hear yelling, and thumping, and crying. The house we were in was pretty much a tall rectangle. My brother and I were at the top level, my mother was on the next one down, and then there was the kitchen/dining room.

I creep down the stairs to my moms room and peek down further. Here I see my step father, and he's yelling at my mom's boyfriend. He's saying things like "come on you son of a bitch, hit me" and "what you'll go after a woman, but not a man" and "get out, get the fuck out". I vividly recall his tone, his anger, and the violence.

My mom saw me and she was crying and told me to get back up stairs.

From what I understand (and I gleaned this from the court proceedings, seeing as how my step father beat the boyfriend pretty badly, he pressed charges) my mother called my step father in a panic. Something about the boyfriend finding her knife (she used to sleep with a knife under the mattress) and just generally in a panic. So he came over to find out what was going on. Then, he requested that the man leave. When he wouldn't, he proceeded to beat the shit out of him.

It's important for me to note that this was the first time I was ever exposed to the depth of rage that my stepfather could pull from. It's important for me to note that I NEVER forgot what he did to my mother's boyfriend. It's important to note that the images of his face, the sounds, all of it, marked me in a profound way that would come back later.

After that though, they were back together, and it was great! I had my family back.

School though, that was a completely different story.

I can't be too negative, because things weren't too bad for me yet. I wasn't overly depressed, just warped. I was a little paranoid, but nothing that got in the way of things. School was merely okay. There's one thing I wanted to mention from this specific period of time before I march on. That's about singing.

I love to sing. I have since I was little. I'm not a very good singer though. And in grade 6, music class was choir. You had to take music, so you had to be part of the choir. This was fine for me, because well, I loved to sing.

The music teacher on the other hand though, was not very nice. One day, she told me that I didn't actually have to sing all the notes. In fact, it was totally okay if I just mouthed all of the words. that way I didn't detract from the rest of the group, or send anyone else off key.

I've never sung in public again. Well, when sober. I did a couple Karaoke stints, but everyone was drunk, so no one recalls how terrible I sounded, and I didn't care that everyone heard how terrible I sounded.

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